I knew I had to make a decision on where to go high school. I was in eighth grade and had given the decision absolutely no thought. I had an choice: Ventura High, or Foothill. I had heard many good things about Foothill, so I started to gauge where I wanted to spend the next four years of my life.

I had heard a bit about Foothill, but I wanted to know more. I talked to friends who went there, and they told me it was great. They told me the teachers were great and actually liked teaching, people were nice, nobody was trying to pick a fight, you could be yourself without coming under fire, and the campus was easy to navigate. So far it had grabbed my heart in the decision. They told me the academics were great, and the teachers help you if you don’t understand something, and they really help you prepare for college and make sure you have everything you need. Foothill had also ensnared my brain for the decision. My decision seems to be pretty clear.

The only research I did other than talking to friends was going to parent night. There was a presentation about the school and a tour of the campus. The campus was small, the classrooms were nice, the presentation had a lot of good things to say, and I liked what I saw. I let what I had learned cultivate in my mind for a few days, and I had made a decision.
I had decided I was going to Foothill. My heart wanted to go there because I would be able to fit in and have a good time. My head wanted to go to Foothill for the education and life preparation. I applied, and got in. And that is why I’m here.